We Three
by starfish422
Summary: Slash: Carlisle and Edward have been eternity partners since Carlisle changed Edward in 1918. Is their capacity to love as limitless as the length of their days? Vamp AU, Polyamory. Carlisle/Edward/Jasper. LEFT INCOMPLETE. See author's notes.
1. Original Oneshot

**This one-shot story was written for Twilighted's Friday Free-For-All series; it was the second entry, posted on April 17/09. Thanks to my girls mozzer0906 and Tallulah Remiter for encouraging me to stick to my instincts on this one. **

**I don't own Twilight.  
**

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When did we become we?

It started the evening I gathered Edward Masen into my arms in the morgue of a hospital in 1918. He was a few hours away from death, and I could not let nature take its course. I couldn't let the only person I'd ever loved be taken from me, after two and a half centuries of near-solitude.

Telling myself I was allowed this – rationalizing that an eternity of service to the human race gave me license to be a bit selfish – I took him. The morgue was in the basement. It was dark outside. No one there saw me take him; no one saw me escape with him clutched against my still heart. In fact, no one there ever saw me again.

I fled with him, running as fast as I could with him in my arms; not stopping till we were well-concealed in the back woods of Wisconsin. I lay him on the damp, mossy ground in the still, cool September evening, and I kissed him. First, a righteous kiss on his beautiful ruby lips; then the kiss of a vampire, the one that would suffuse in him my venom, and begin the transformation process. Over the next several days, I wept with tearless sobs as my beautiful one burned. I held him, apologizing again and again for the fire that consumed his veins, replacing his blood with venom, and eventually stilling his heart entirely.

When his heart finally shuddered to a halt, I knew he was mine, forever. And though it took many months before he was able to focus on me as anything more than a teacher, a mentor – even a father figure for him, in this terrifying new life of his – he grew to love me as I did him. Together we learned what it was to express our love in its physical aspect. His body – smooth, pale and perfect – was my delight, and mine was the same for him. Hours, days, we spent intoxicated with the euphoria we found together. I thought we lacked for nothing.

For many years we moved from one state to another, leaving before it became obvious that neither of us were aging. We told people we were brothers. Maybe they believed us; perhaps they didn't. It was very difficult in those decades to be in a same-sex relationship, and as we chose to live among humans, we decided we must follow the norms set by society. We sought out areas where we could work among humans, but have a great deal of privacy around our home.

After nearly four decades together, we moved to the Pacific Northwest for the second time. It held the dual advantages of many days of rain and cloud; and thick, dense forests wherein we could build our home. I worked as a country doctor in a tiny town. Edward worked on his music, telling those who asked that he had just graduated from Juilliard. We hunted in the deep woods that surrounded the base of the Olympic Mountains.

One October night, after we'd taken down a couple of deer who had lingered past dusk on the edge of a clearing, we lay in the cool, damp moss, staring up into the sky, for once filled with stars instead of clouds. We were talking quietly when Edward suddenly sat bolt upright. In an instant I was on my feet, crouched in a defensive posture, waiting for him to tell me who or what was near. He was silent for a moment, his eyes wide as he stared into the black woods.

Finally he spoke, in the lowest possible voice. "Carlisle...what did you say a moment ago?"

Confused, I answered in a voice that matched his, "I said that it doesn't look as though Harry Truman will win re-election next month, and you said not to write him off yet. Why?"

"I could swear I heard--" he halted abruptly as he tensed even more. "There's someone here. I can hear his thoughts."

"I don't smell anyone," I whispered furiously. "Which direction?"

He shifted slightly, nodding his head wordlessly in the direction of the thoughts he heard. He was silent for another moment, listening, seeing the stranger's thoughts in his head.

"I don't believe it..." he whispered.

"What?" I urged, frustrated that I could neither hear nor smell the intruder.

"He's one of us, Carlisle."

"Who? Do we know him?"

"I don't think so – I don't recognize his mind. His thoughts are horribly sad; he's recalling some of his human memories." Then he winced – if blood could have drained from his face, I'm sure it would have – and he looked as though he had been hit by a wave of pain and sadness. As he told me later, that was, in fact, exactly what had happened.

"Carlisle, he's completely alone – depressed, lonely and desperate. He's as close to suicidal as a vampire can get."

Finally Edward spoke aloud, loudly enough that the vampire could hear him clearly from a mile or so away – which was still nearly imperceptible to human ears. "I know you can hear us. We won't hurt you – please, come to us and let us help you. Please don't be afraid. We're peaceful."

He was silent for a moment, his head to one side as he listened, and then spoke aloud again. "Yes, I can hear your thoughts. I know you're alone. I know you've been one of us for a long time, and that you're looking for something different. We are different. At least let us tell you about our life. Maybe the way we live, is what you're looking for. No more violence. You've seen enough violence in your long life."

At that moment, I could hear a gentle sob several hundred feet away. He was silently making his way to us, the only sound the gentle swaying of leaves as he brushed past them – a sound only a vampire could hear. Edward reached up to where I stood beside him, and took my hand. "Sit down, Carlisle – let him be in control of this."

I nodded, trusting Edward's assessment of his thoughts, that he would not attack. Soon, we both saw him in the woods, watching us. Edward gently nodded his head at him, beckoning him. Cautiously, gingerly, he took one step and then another, maintaining a defensive posture as he drew closer. Finally, he emerged into the clearing, his wide eyes darting around, looking for signs that others were around.

He was tall and blond. His eyes were blood red, though the deep violet circles under his eyes showed that he was terribly thirsty. He was barefoot, his clothing grimy; his curly, chin-length hair tangled and filled with bits of foliage. He looked to have been around twenty when he was changed. I wondered how long he had been running alone.

For long moments, he regarded us with wary eyes; and still we sat, returning his gaze. Finally, Edward held out one hand, palm up, in a show of trust and openness, and spoke.

"Your name is Jasper?" The blond nodded. "Jasper, I can see that you're weak. I know you haven't satisfied your thirst in months, and that you've been staying away from humans so you don't have to kill anyone else. Carlisle and I – " here he gestured toward me, "we don't hunt humans. We drink the blood of animals. I know you can smell the herd of deer just over that rise. It isn't the same, friend; I won't tell you that it is. But it will give you strength, both for your body and for your resolve."

The young man's delicate lip curled up slightly in disgust for a moment, but I could see that he was considering Edward's suggestion. His eyes darted back and forth between us several times, as if trying to ascertain whether we were trying to entrap him. Abruptly, his face seemed to crumple, and he dropped to his knees, his face falling into his hands; and at last I heard him speak.

"No more violence," his voice rasped softly. My ancient heart panged for him, and after a quick look at each other, Edward and I both flashed to his side, wrapping our arms around him, trying to soothe him as he wept tearlessly.

Jasper hunted that night, and once he had gorged himself on the blood of three deer, returned with us to our home in the woods. He showered, spending so long under the hot spray that he finally drained the hot water from the tank. When he emerged from the bathroom wearing one of my clean shirts and a pair of Edward's pants, the pale violet circles under his eyes had already begun to lighten, and he looked more like a supreme being, rather than a road-weary traveller.

Over the next several days, he told us of his life. Born in Texas, joined the Confederate army at age 16; at age 19, conscripted into a different type of war – the southern vampire wars. He spared no detail as he described his life during those times. Over the decades, he had helped create and then destroy thousands of newborn vampires. His vampiric talent as an empath had eventually caused him to flee, as he sensed the fear and heartbreak from the victims of those terrible times. By the time we found him, he had been roving North America alone for nine years. Remorseful for the years of bloodshed, and unable to block the fear from the humans he hunted, he had been abstaining from blood for over a year, with only a few lapses.

Months passed, and Jasper remained with us. As the human blood left his system and his eyes changed from red to golden, so too did his personality. He still carried some guilt from his past – Edward told me he thought about it often – but eventually a new man emerged from the broken shell we had found in the woods that night. He was intelligent and thoughtful, scholarly even; and the three of us had many epic discussions on politics, philosophy and world events. It was the one period of my life when I honestly regretted that I must leave to go to work.

Of course, it did not escape his notice that Edward and I had a bedroom. A bedroom that contained a bed, for vampires who don't sleep. A bedroom into which we would eventually want to disappear, for some uninterrupted time. Edward and I decided from the first that we must be open with Jasper if he was to live with us; and so once he mentioned the bed, we told him, simply, that we were together. His age and his southern sensibilities meant he was properly scandalized at first. Soon, though, Edward told me that Jasper was becoming affected by the lust we generated when we were together. We were as discreet as possible; but an empath with a vampire's sense of hearing defeats all attempts at discretion.

I felt badly for him, as he must crave companionship of his own, especially now that he had come to some peace about his feeding habits. I considered mentioning to Edward that perhaps he should take a trip to Denali with Jasper. Carmen was mated with Eleazar; but Kate, Tanya and Irina were all beauties, and Jasper might find companionship with one of them. Before I had an opportunity to speak to him about it, though, everything changed.

Early one morning, I came home from an overnight birth to find Edward home by himself. Jasper had gone for an early morning hunt, he said. It was the first time we'd been alone in the house in months, and immediately I grabbed his hand and we dashed to our bedroom, stripping our shirts as we went.

As soon as the door to our bedroom closed, Edward whirled on me, catching me around the waist and pulling me close. The evidence of our mutual arousal was already apparent as his hips ground against mine. "Mmmm," he moaned softly. "I hoped you'd get home before Jasper, my love. It's been so long since we could be free to enjoy each other, without restraint."

"And I intend to take full advantage of it," I growled, my desire for him almost uncontrollable. I dropped to my knees, ripping his pants from his body as I did. When his beautiful body was bare before me, I immediately opened my mouth to accept his hard cock. He was longer than me, though not as thick; and I took his entire length down my throat. He groaned, his long fingers burying themselves in my thick blond hair. My tongue swept the underside of his shaft with each pass as I throated his smooth marble cock, again and again. He tensed as his orgasm neared; and then roared his release, thrusting his hips forcefully with every spurt of his elixir that hit my throat. It had been so long since I'd heard his velvet voice frantic with ecstasy, and it was so sexy that I nearly came just from hearing him. At that moment, it felt as though only he and I existed in the world, let alone in our home.

Abruptly, though, I realized that we were very wrong. Edward, who should have been basking in the afterglow of his release, suddenly pulled me up to stand in front of him, and whispered into my ear, in a voice only we could hear, "He's here."

Without speaking, I asked Edward, _He's in the house?_

Edward shook his head, his jaw tight, and pointed at the door.

_How did you not hear him?_ I thought frantically.

"I was a little distracted!" he whispered furiously.

At that moment, a soft knock sounded on the door. I exhaled deeply, and motioned for Edward to put on his robe before I opened the door. On the other side of the door was a Jasper I hadn't seen before. His eyes were black, though he had just hunted; and he eyed me hungrily. I was taken aback at his demeanor. He spoke before I could.

"I'm sorry - I know you're...I know I'm interrupting. I just wondered...please be honest if I'm overstepping...but please...may I join you?" His black eyes were pleading, and the waves of desire emanating from him, more than made up for my own drive that had slackened with his interruption.

I turned to meet Edward's gaze, seeking his opinion on the addition. We had become fairly open-minded about our sexual relationship after the first decade or so had passed, and had brought a third lover to our bed a few times before. Not one who lived with us, though. This felt like a much bigger decision, something that could change the course of our lives.

Edward held my gaze for a long moment, and raised one eyebrow quizzically at me. It was clear to me he welcomed the addition, but as always, we must be in agreement. I answered his unspoken question silently. _Yes._

I turned back to Jasper, whose lust still flooded the atmosphere as he awaited our decision. In reply, I simply held out my hand to take his, and led him into our bedroom. He gazed at Edward, whose robe did little to conceal his excitement at this development. Jasper hesitated, unsure. Still holding his hand, I led him to where Edward stood beside our bed. They eyed each other for a moment. Taking control, I placed one hand on each of them, grasping the backs of their necks. I pulled Edward to me for a deep kiss, then turned to Jasper and did the same. Then I guided them together, and they kissed passionately.

Kisses flowed between the three of us...hands travelled over bodies...eyes watched hungrily...clothes were torn off and tossed to the floor. I climbed onto the bed and drew both naked men to me. I told Jasper to lie on his back, and indicated that Edward should straddle him facing the opposite direction, so each could take the other's cock into his mouth. Realizing Jasper might want only the physical contact, and not penetration, I moved behind Edward and used my tongue to prepare him for my cock; dipping in to his opening, swirling around the delicately puckered tissues. He moaned around Jasper's cock, eliciting a similar response from Jasper. I positioned the head of my thick cock at his opening and held firmly to his hips, and pressed slowly, steadily, further and further into the tight depth that welcomed me; until he held my full length deep inside.

Edward groaned, begging for me to give him what he needed, and I began to plunge into him. Again and again I pushed deep inside, marvelling as I always did, at how well-suited our bodies were for each other. From my vantage point, I saw Edward's hand snake around Jasper's hip. He started to gently massage Jasper's opening with the pad of his index finger. I couldn't see Jasper's face, but the thrust of his hips toward Edward's finger told me that, not only was he not shying away from this contact - he desired it. Edward slid one finger into Jasper, then two, and began to gently thrust his fingers in and out.

Our bodies and voices began to blur, each one overlapping the others until we were virtually indistinguishable, even to a vampire's senses; a symphony of spirits moving in one accord, inspired by some unearthly conductor, pushed higher and higher until at last we shattered in our ultimate crescendo.

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As the individual stems of a climbing vine twine together, diverge and coalesce, yet always flow with the same vitality, joined at a common root; so too are Edward, Jasper and I. Our individual paths have taken us around the world in the ensuing decades; sometimes we are separated, but only by geography. Our physical hearts do not beat; but we share a common heart, one that knows neither time nor distance. It is an ancient understanding, a love that triumphs over the restrictions of humanity; and in a thousand years, when this world's civilizations have crumbled to dust, there will still be Jasper, Edward, and Carlisle - we three.

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**Hope you enjoyed the sweetness and the spice. Please review if you did, bbs. I've been asked to expand upon it; and it's entirely possible that once Over The Top is complete, I may do so; so place it on your alerts (or subscribe to me as an author). ****For now it's a one-shot. **


	2. Carlisle & Edward, 1918 to 1919

**Finally, only five and a half months after the first chapter o****f this story was posted, an update. I see this story, not as a progressive serial, but as a series of vignettes of the lives of the three men throughout the decades. Of course, it only makes sense to begin at the beginning.**

**-o-**

**Carlisle and Edward, 1918-1919**

It began on a sultry evening in September, 1918. I was a doctor in Chicago at that time, working at a hospital. My colleagues were run off their feet trying to keep up with the influx of new cases of the Spanish influenza that was ravaging most of the world. I didn't need to sleep, and felt guilty that I must leave the hospital to keep up the appearance of humanity, when I knew I could have done so much more by working around the clock.

Though most of that week had been cool, this day the temperature had risen sharply, and the night was humid as the summer desperately clung to its fading song. The hospital was stifling, leading already-exhausted staff to snap at each other at a time when we desperately needed to support each other.

I arrived at the ward containing those quarantined by the influenza, putting on my mask. Though there was, of course, no danger of me becoming ill, I needed to maintain the appearance, and encourage the other staff to take care with their own health. As I entered the ward, I witnessed two colleagues arguing strenuously. Their voices were escalating, and the patients were becoming disturbed by the row. I went to them and quietly encouraged them each to take an hour or so off, to get outside and get some fresh air. I took the charts they held and they left.

I looked over the charts in my hands. They belonged to my two favorite patients; for I had allowed myself to become attached to these two. The older of the two was a woman in her late thirties, Elizabeth Masen; the other, her teen-aged son Edward. The husband and father, Edward Sr., had already died of the pandemic. His wife wasn't quite as ill as either Edward Sr. or Jr.; but she exhausted herself attempting to care for her son. Neither of them was expected to live.

As much as I respected and admired Elizabeth Masen's devotion to her son, she would not be the one for whom I would deeply mourn.

For I found myself in serious danger of falling in love with Edward Masen. As ill as he had been when he first came in, he had rallied for a short time; and we'd had several conversations. His green eyes and bronze hair shimmered under the reasonably-new hospital's electric lights; and I found myself drawn to him. More than drawn to him – I was forming an attachment that was much stronger, much deeper than any I'd felt before, to a human or a vampire. I knew it was wrong – fruitless and impossible. But for the first time since becoming a vampire, I found that I was feeling a desire that my self-control was simply not strong enough to fight.

Sighing, I tucked their charts under my arm and walked down the long row of beds to where Elizabeth and Edward lay in their beds, side by side. Because of the quarantine, we weren't able to segregate patients by gender. Looking back, I doubt Elizabeth Masen would have allowed us to remove her son from her sight, even in her weakened condition.

Elizabeth was on her side, her arm stretched across the small distance between their beds, stroking her son's forearm with her thin, weak hand. Edward, asleep, looked feverish. Coming to stand between their beds, I bent down to speak to Elizabeth.

"Mrs. Masen?"

She did not reply or acknowledge my presence in any way; though she must have known I was there, her attention was wholly absorbed by her only child. So rather than ask her about herself, I asked her about Edward. "How is he?"

This got her attention. She turned her fierce green eyes to me, and in a raspy voice, commanded, "Save him!"

Knowing she asked the impossible, I sat on the edge of her bed resignedly. I could only reply, "I'll do everything in my power."

When her hand gripped mine, I wondered at her strength; as ill as she was, I wondered if perhaps she might be able to fight the illness after all. "You must do everything in _your_ power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward."

Her words shocked me, and I stared at her dumbly. Her gaze was unwavering, and it terrified me. I was certain she knew my secret. Tearing my eyes away from her stare, I looked to Edward. He was delirious with fever, tossing his head and moaning. A moment later I looked back to Elizabeth; as I did, her eyes rolled back in her head and then closed.

An hour later, she was gone.

The last words she ever spoke were a plea for me to save her son. Edward was unaware that his mother had died; he was so overwhelmed by the fever that it was very likely he would join his parents without waking up. I had hours, at most, to make the biggest decision of my long life.

I took Elizabeth Masen's body to the morgue. When I returned to the ward, Edward lay alone for the first time since he'd come to the hospital. It struck me that he was, truly, alone in this world. He now had no parents; he had no brothers or sisters. No one would know that he had vanished…no one would demand a body once he had been declared dead…

I stood, watching him, as I debated my options. Even in the throes of a fatal illness, he looked beautiful to me, and my heart broke to think of his young life cut short – and to know that I would never see or speak to him again once he was gone. I would be alone, as I had been for much of my vampire existence; only this time I would be left with the memories of Edward.

Could I live with it? _Should_ I live with it? Could I not allow myself to be happy, and honor Elizabeth Masen's dying wish at the same time? From the time I realized I could live on animal blood and ended my self-imposed exile from civilization, I had become a servant to the human race, becoming a doctor, exercising an iron control to gradually become immune to the inescapable scent of human blood. Since I had left Aro and his brothers in Volterra, I'd lived alone, without the companionship of anyone of my kind. Considering all of this, and knowing that Edward's human life was quickly drawing to its conclusion, was I not _allowed_ this?

I was.

The instant my decision was made, I was in motion. I lifted Edward's limp body from the painted-white iron bed, and set him carefully on a gurney. I heard my colleagues down the hall, returning to the ward. Acting quickly, I pulled the sheet from Edward's bed and settled it over him, covering him completely. It sank across the length of him just as my colleagues returned.

"Carlisle," said Dr. William Patterson quietly. "Who have we lost now?"

"The Masens. Elizabeth passed away a few hours ago; this is Edward." I answered carefully, avoiding a lie.

"Terrible," answered Dr. George Ennis. "I think Elizabeth could have lived if she hadn't exhausted herself trying to save her son."

"She was a mother," offered William simply. "His life was more important to her than her own."

I could only nod in agreement. "Are you two all right now?" I asked, knowing that I would be leaving the remaining patients in the ward, in their care. I wouldn't be returning from the morgue.

"Yes," replied George sheepishly. "It's been a long day."

"It's been a long summer," corrected William, rubbing his hand wearily over his face.

"Indeed," I nodded, emulating a tired expression.

"Carlisle, I think it's time for you to have a break now," said George. "Have dinner, get some fresh air – you were right, it did a world of good."

"Okay," I replied, pretending to concede grudgingly. "I'll take him downstairs," indicating Edward, "and then I'll go for dinner."

That was the last time I saw either William or George; the last time I saw anyone for a long time – anyone save Edward, of course. As soon as we were in the morgue, I gathered him into my arms and fled. We travelled at vampire speed across the rooftops of Chicago, headed northwest. I didn't stop until two hours later, when we were deep in the Wisconsin Dells.

In a glen, far away from civilization, I laid Edward down on a soft bed of moss. His breathing was becoming shallower, more labored, and I knew I could no longer delay. His beautiful red lips were parted slightly and I leaned down to kiss them, wanting to feel the soft warmth against mine once. Then I shifted slightly, moving his chin so that his throat was exposed to me; and I sank my teeth into his throat. They sliced easily through the fragile flesh, like a hot knife slicing through butter. He didn't move, didn't respond in any way; my teeth were so sharp that he would barely have felt it even if he'd been conscious. I watched intently, smelling my venom under his skin, watching for any reaction that showed the transformation had begun. For several long moments, it seemed nothing had happened.

Suddenly, Edward gasped, his eyes flying open. His hands came up to clutch his throat where I had bit him, and he looked around in panic. I knew from my own change that the transformation from human to vampire was a tremendously painful experience, like spending days in a furnace without the respite of death. Soon it was apparent that the burning had begun for Edward. I gathered him into my arms, holding him on my lap there in the cool moss. For three long days and nights I held him, apologizing for the pain, telling him about myself and my own transformation, assuring him that I knew what he was feeling and that the torture would end. At times I sobbed tearlessly, wishing I could alleviate the unbearable anguish of the transformation for him.

As the end of the process neared, his heart rate sped up; it was almost over. "Yes, my beautiful one," I murmured. "The pain will soon be gone." At last, his heart stuttered to a halt. He was completely still in my arms for a moment, and then his eyes opened.

What I saw in them shocked me. Gone was the beautiful green I had loved; but this I expected. What I had anticipated was that they would be the same light golden color as mine. Instead, they were a brilliant blood red.

In my many years, I had never been around a newborn; and when I was a newborn myself, I had exiled myself far from settled areas where a mirror might be available to me; so it did not occur to me that he would share the scarlet eyes of my non-vegetarian contemporaries despite never touching a drop of human blood.

All this I considered in a microsecond, before Edward jumped up from my arms and crouched before me in a defensive position. He didn't speak at first.

"Edward," I murmured, remaining seated on the ground, "do you know who I am?"

He didn't answer at first; then slowly said, "Dr. Cullen?"

"Yes," I replied. "It's Dr. Cullen."

"Where am I?" he asked warily.

"We're in Wisconsin," I answered carefully. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he searched the human memories that would now be vague to him. "Where is…"

"Your mother?" I asked, finishing his sentence for him.

"Yes," he nodded slowly. "Where is my mother?"

"Edward, I'm sorry; your mother passed away in the hospital."

He didn't answer; keeping his same neutral expression. He looked as though he was searching his memory for something that would support what I said.

"How did we get here?"

"I carried you," I answered quietly.

His head tilted to the side as he looked at me critically. "To Wisconsin?" I nodded. "I am no longer ill."

"No," I confirmed. "You're not ill."

"You cured me?"

"I performed a procedure," I began carefully. "You are no longer susceptible to influenza." He looked around him, looking in wonder at the trees and wildlife that surrounded us, as though seeing the world for the first time. In fact, he really was; as he now had a vampire's eyes; he could see much more than he'd ever seen before.

"What has happened to me?" he murmured, looking down at his hands. His skin, which had been so warm and flushed before, was now pale, smooth and, I knew, cool by human standards.

"Edward," I said stepping slowly towards him. "The procedure I performed…it has changed you."

As he continued to look at himself, a light of understanding dawned on his face. "I am like you," he said, quiet wonder in his voice. "You told me I would be like you."

"Yes," I breathed. He remembered what I had told him during his transformation.

"But my eyes are not like yours," he said.

I glanced around for something reflective, something that enabled him to see that his eye color was different from mine. When I saw nothing, I looked back at him, puzzled.

"I see here," he said, slowly tapping his forehead with his fingertip, "as though I was standing where you are, looking at me. And yet what I see here," indicating his eyes, "tells me different."

For a moment I did not understand what he was attempting to explain to me; and then my mind flickered back to my old friend Aro, who could draw the memories from your mind simply by holding your hand. Yet I wasn't touching Edward.

"Aro?" asked Edward quizzically. "That's a unique name."

I fixed a picture of my father's church in my mind, and said to Edward, "What do you see now?"

"With my eyes, I see you; up here, I see a church."

I forced myself to think about what Edward had looked like, nestled in my arms as we flew through the night, escaping Chicago. "You did carry me," he mused. "Just as you said you did."

One more image I brought to mind; one of Edward in his bed at the hospital, during one of his rare lucid times. As Elizabeth slept beside us, Edward and I talked softly about music, a passion of his and a great enjoyment of mine. I let my feelings for him color the memory; let him see how I had wished to stroke his cheek, hold his hand in mine, run my fingers through his mess of coppery hair.

I waited for his reaction, knowing that it might very well be one of disgust and hatred. Even before my own change, I had known that I felt no attraction for women; unfortunately, despite the many changes in civilized society from the 1660s to the 1910s, there had been little change when it came to homosexuality. People feared and abhorred it as much in 1918 as they had when I was human.

Edward did not show disgust when I let him see how I had fallen in love with him. He hesitantly reached out to hold my hand, knowing how I had wished for this contact. I gratefully took his hand in mine, reveling in the softness that was ensconced by my fingers.

I had told him during his transformation about that diet I followed, and I knew the newborn thirst he would be feeling now. For now, the simple pleasure of holding his hand would be more than enough. "Come," I told him. "Let me teach you how to hunt."

-o-

Over the following months, Edward and I remained in remote areas of the Midwest, where wildlife was plentiful and humans were not. He learned how to manage his new skills, and I learned to control my thoughts when I was around him. At first his gift was most disconcerting, and I sometimes became irritated when he responded to unspoken thoughts that I hadn't intended to share. He, too, learned to some extent not to pry, understanding that I had need of some level of privacy.

As the time passed, Edward and I grew very close; as it was just him and me, we became each other's world. We had no need for sleep, of course, so we spent many long hours talking about history, art, literature, and, of course, music. Edward was thrilled that I had been present for so many of the historical events that had intrigued him and could relate firsthand experiences from them. I enjoyed watching Edward relearn the world around him from a vampire's perspective, much like a parent would watch their child make new discoveries; but the feelings I had for him were nothing like a parent. Our closeness and affection was often manifested in holding hands; he seemed very comfortable with this and would take my hand as we ran through the forest together or when we lay gazing up at the stars at night. At times I would hold him in my arms when the new intensity of his emotions proved too much for him.

But as time passed, my love for him grew deeper, and holding his hand became nearly torturous, when there were so many other expressions of love I wished to make. As much as I attempted to keep my thoughts private, I couldn't constantly be on my guard. There were times when I knew he caught a fleeting thought of desire; I knew he could see how my eyes darkened at times when my longing for him got the better of me. He had never spoken of his own feelings, or made any attempt to express anything other than close affection.

And so I continued on, grateful beyond words for his companionship, knowing that he felt a kind of love for me; but believing it to be a _philadelphia_ love, not an _eros_ love. Until one evening in September, 1919.

It was the first anniversary of the day I had begun Edward's transformation; it was also the anniversary of the day Elizabeth Masen passed away. By that time we had a small cabin in Central Minnesota, still living away from civilization. I had not yet returned to the world of practicing medicine since Edward's transformation; I didn't yet feel comfortable leaving Edward to resist temptation on his own so I could go off to work.

Earlier that week, Edward had suggested to me that he wished to visit his parents' grave that day; in essence, he was asking whether I believed him ready to be in a city like Chicago, in close proximity to so many humans. Numerous times in the year we'd spent in the wilds of Wisconsin, Minnesota and the Dakotas, we had come across the trail of humans, and from the time he was about three months old, he had been able to restrain himself from tearing after the humans. If he did so well when tempted by a surprise appearance of a human scent, I believed he would do very well indeed when he knew it was coming, and could prepare for it. His eyes had long since faded from the violent scarlet to an alluring shade of amber. I readily agreed; and we planned to go that evening after the sun had set.

The weather acted in our favor that evening, and a heavy cloudbank in the west meant that we could spend more time at the Masens' grave before they kicked us out and locked the gates. Not that a 10-foot high wrought-iron fence would kept us out; but by the time we left the cemetery, Edward was ready to go home. He was quietly pensive as we travelled through the city toward the outskirts. Once we were out of Chicago, I reached for his hand, ready to break into our usual running-as-travel pace. He took my hand, but didn't make ready to run. Instead, when I turned to look at him, I found him gazing thoughtfully at me. I met his gaze steadily, having learned that it would do no good to question him; he would speak when he was ready.

Presently, he said, "Carlisle?"

"Yes, Edward," I replied, waiting for him to tell me what was on his mind.

"Thank you for bringing me here today," he replied.

"Of course," I said, wondering why something so simple had presented a problem to him when he attempted to verbalize it. But he wasn't done speaking.

"My parents truly loved each other," he continued softly. "My memories are mostly hazy, but I know that they loved each other tremendously." I nodded in reply. "I want that," he almost whispered. "I know how you feel how you feel about me – I have tried not to pry, but sometimes, things just..."

"I know," I replied. "I've tried, too, to keep them private; but at times they slip out, so to speak."

He nodded. "The emotions I have felt in your thoughts, Carlisle…I feel the same way. I love you," he whispered. My heart felt as though it might swell to bursting. I remained still as his free hand came up to my face to lightly stroke my cheekbone with the backs of his fingers. It felt so wonderful, so intimate; I sighed and closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation of his skin against mine and feeling happiness I'd never experienced before. A moment later, his hand left my face and he wrapped both arms around my waist, burying his face in my neck.

I held him close to me, deeply inhaling his heady scent; and I shared my emotions in a way that he would know was meant just for him. _I love you, my beautiful one, _I thought._ For so long I was alone; even when I lived vampires, I felt solitary, watching others with their mates. I wondered whether I would ever find someone to become my companion – my love – in this endless existence. I have fallen in love with you; and you make me happier than I could ever have imagined being._

I pulled away slightly so that he would look up at me, and taking his face between my hands, I softly pressed my lips to his. Joy filled me as, at last, I kissed the love of my life…of my existence. We kissed again and again, soft endearments exchanged between the kisses. Soon words were abandoned as our mouths became more deeply involved with each other. Though I struggled to control my thoughts, an image of Edward, beautifully bare and lying beneath me, flashed into my mind before I could lock it away.

He gasped, pulling away; and looked down, not meeting my eyes. "Edward," I murmured, "my love, I'm sorry; it was a presumptuous thought…"

"It just…took me by surprise," he said, keeping his eyes downcast. "I've never seen…that…in your thoughts before; and…I've thought about it too, of course…but I've never…done…" If he'd been able to blush, I'm sure his cheeks would have been in flames.

"Neither have I," I replied and he looked up at me, mild surprise registering on his face. "It's true," I assured him. "Not when I was human, and not since my transformation. You can read my thoughts – you know I'm being honest."

"I always know you're being honest, Carlisle," he murmured, "and reading your thoughts has nothing to do with that. I just assumed…since you're older than I am, that you had…"

"I've been waiting," I replied, stroking his cheek with my hands, "for the one. And now, here you are." He closed his eyes, leaning his cheek into my palm. "How do you feel about…doing that…?"

His eyes remained closed and there was a long moment as my question gestated. Finally he nodded gently. "I desire you, Carlisle. But can we take things slowly?"

"Of course, my beautiful one," I whispered. "Whatever you wish…whatever I can do to make you happy – I will do it."

"I love you, Carlisle," he said, his soft amber eyes earnestly holding my gaze.

"I love you too," I replied, and kissed him gently. As I held him to me, I felt so grateful for this day, that my love was now truly _my_ love, and desired me as his own.

As days passed, we were as inseparable as we had been since his transformation; but a perceptible shift had taken place in how we related to each other physically. The difference was that we were in almost constant physical contact. When we sat on the couch to read, he would stretch his legs out to rest his feet on my lap. He would hand something to me, and his fingers would caress my arm before pulling away. Even the way we ran through the woods hand-in-hand changed. Before our declarations, Edward would slip his hand into mine the way I'd held my mother's hand as a child. Now our fingers laced together as lovers hold hands.

Though we didn't sleep, we often lay on the bed in our little cabin, arms wrapped around each other. His closeness, his warmth and beauty and love; they fuelled my desire for him. He knew, of course; not just from my thoughts – he could feel the physical evidence of my desire as I could feel his. Still I waited, knowing that he would let me know when he was ready; never wishing to do anything that would make him feel rushed or uncomfortable.

One night we sat reading, on the floor in front of the fireplace. Of course we didn't need the fire for warmth; but we both found it to be soothing, something that symbolized _home_ for us. My back leaned against the couch and Edward lay on the floor, his head on my lap. I stroked his hair as I read to him. The chosen text for the evening was Christopher Marlowe's "Hero and Leander":

_Leander strived; the waves about him wound,  
And pulled him to the bottom, where the ground  
Was strewed with pearl, and in low coral groves  
Sweet singing mermaids sported with their loves  
On heaps of heavy gold, and took great pleasure  
To spurn in careless sort the shipwr__eck treasure.  
For here the stately azure palace stood  
Where kingly Neptune and his train abode.  
The lusty god embraced him, called him "Love,"  
And swore he never should return to Jove.  
But when he knew it was not Ganymede,  
For under water he was almost dead,  
He heaved him up and, looking on his face,  
Beat down the bold waves with his triple mace,  
Which mounted up, intending to have kissed him,  
And fell in drops like tears because they missed him.  
Leander, being up, began to swim  
And, looking back, saw Neptune follow him,  
Whereat aghast, the poor soul 'gan to cry  
"O, let me visit Hero ere I die!"  
The god put Helle's bracelet on his arm,  
And swore the sea should never do him harm.  
He clapped his plump cheeks, with his tresses played  
And, smiling wantonly, his love betrayed.  
He watched his arms and, as they opened wide  
At every stroke, betwixt them would he slide  
And steal a kiss, and then run out and dance,  
And, as he turned, cast many a lustful glance,  
And threw him gaudy toys to please his eye,  
And dive into the water, and there pry  
Upon his breast, his thighs, and every limb,  
And up again, and close beside him swim,  
And talk of love…_

Suddenly Edward's hand jumped from where it had lain on his chest. He grasped the book and tossed it carelessly to the floor several feet away. In an instant he changed position, from supine to kneeling beside me.

"Carlisle," he murmured huskily, taking my face between his hands. My eyes closed as our mouths found each other, his tongue sliding out to caress my lips. My mouth opened and my tongue met his, his sweet taste thrilling me. He lifted one knee so he could straddle my legs; he slid onto my lap, our mouths continuing their passionate dance.

As we kissed, his hands left my face and travelled down to the collar of the shirt I wore. His slender fingers began to unbutton my shirt, slowly working downwards. When the shirt was completely unbuttoned, he slid it off my shoulders; then he pulled away from me for a moment to pull my undershirt over my head. When my upper body was bare, he sat, just gazing at my chest and torso. His soft hands felt amazing as they glided across the smooth skin. I felt the sensation of goose bumps, though I knew my skin was unable to produce that reaction.

Now it was my turn to help him shed the fawn-colored turtleneck he wore and the undershirt beneath it. As the garments slid over his head they tousled the burnished hair that gleamed in the firelight. I slid my fingers through his locks, then down his neck and across his shoulders and chest, just reveling in the experience of finally being able to touch him in the way I'd dreamed for over a year. We continued like that, touching, looking and exploring, for long moments. My cock was hard beneath him; the sort of situation that would have been painful for me as a human. As it was, the ache was an exquisite torture.

I slid my hands behind his bottom and pulled him closer to me, seeking his mouth again; as I did, his own rock-hard length inside his corduroy pants pressed against my stomach. He moaned softly at the pressure. I ensured my grip on him and stood up, knowing the bed in the corner of the cabin was just too far away. Instead I lay him on his back on the couch, and began to unbutton his pants. He lay with his arms tucked behind his head, not moving until he lifted his hips so I could slide the slacks down and off of him. His drawers could not contain the turgid length within, which threatened to tear through the thin cotton fabric. Before I removed his undergarment, though, I undid my own slacks, letting them fall to the floor around my feet.

We were now on an equal playing field – each in thin cotton drawers that concealed almost nothing from the other. Though I'd never made love before, I had been a doctor long enough to have seen many, many human bodies, male and female; and I knew that the male anatomy varied greatly from one man to the next. Edward, however, didn't have that experience; and I felt it would be unfair to him to ask him to bare his intimate parts first.

So, standing in front of him, I undid the ties that held my drawers in place, and slid them down till they fell into a puddle on the floor. Edward's eyes, which had been locked on mine, finally drifted downwards to take in my naked form, aroused and standing ready to fulfill my desire for him. His lips parted slightly and he sucked in a sharp breath when his eyes found my engorged cock, thick and heavy before him. I stood still for a moment, allowing him to satisfy his curiosity; then I leaned over him and began to divest him of his drawers as well.

I was about to slide them down when his hands grasped mine, stopping me. "I hope…" he began awkwardly, pausing before he tried again. "I'm not quite as big…"

"It's okay, beautiful one," I assured him. "Everyone is different – you are exactly as you should be." As I spoke, I slid the undergarment down and off of him, and then it was my turn to take in the beautiful sight before me. He was correct, only in that his cock was not as thick as mine; however, it was a bit longer. His foreskin nestled at the base of the smooth head that was slightly less pale than the rest of his skin. Between his hipbones, the muscles of his abdomen created a v-shaped indent that drew my eyes across his exquisite form. He was perfect; no marble statue could compete with the godlike perfection of the man who lay before me now.

"Edward," I breathed in awe, and he smiled, looking relieved at my reaction, as though he now felt assured and could relax. I dropped to my knees beside the couch, and kissed his mouth deeply. Soon I left his lips and began to travel down his neck, along his collarbone, across his smooth chest, and down the valley of his abdominal muscles. Below his navel, my tongue began to glide over a thin line of hair; it beckoned me deeper, to where the hair thickened, bronze curls framing his hard length.

I gently wrapped my hand around the base of his cock, and he gasped at the sensation. I allowed myself to visualize what I wished to do to him, so he would not be surprised. I watched his face as he read my thoughts; he closed his eyes and nodded, a tiny nod of assent mixed with anticipation and anxiety. I leaned closer and slowly traced the tip of my tongue around the head of his cock. His reaction wasn't as pronounced this time, but his body trembled as the sensations overwhelmed him.

I took him into my mouth, humming around him as his swollen length slid past my lips and to the back of my throat. With my free hand, I cupped and massaged his scrotum, feeling the testes slide around inside the sac.

Edward moaned, and his hands, which had been behind his head, slid into my blond hair, clutching and stroking it, riding the rise and fall of my head as I took him down my throat repeatedly. I had hoped that, when the time came, I would be able to do this for him in a way that would bring him pleasure. It seemed that, so far at least, I was successful in that. I'd always tried to be humble, but knowing I was doing this, and doing it well, for my beautiful one...the thought made me so proud that I was nearly dizzy.

Beneath me, Edward's body began to stiffen, his hips twitching as though fighting the urge to thrust. His breathing became heavier; a rumble emanated from his chest, starting low and growing louder when his release drew near. A moment later his cock twitched in my mouth and he groaned an inhuman sound, sweet venomous essence spilled from his cock into my mouth. I swallowed the ejaculate, not considering whether I should do so or whether I would have to expel it later; I acted purely on instinct, wanting it – wanting him – inside me. I would accept as much of him as he was willing to give me.

He continued to moan, his body writhing under me until the waves of pleasure subsided from him. I released his cock and climbed up onto the couch, lying beside him so that the length of our bodies pressed against each other almost from head to toe. He turned to face me. "I've never felt anything so powerful, Carlisle," he whispered fervently. "Not when I hunt, not when I run...it was exquisite." He kissed me again, softly this time. "Thank you," he said, his brow deepening into a serious expression. "Thank you so much. I love you."

"I love you too, my beautiful one," I answered.

"You swallowed...it," he continued, as much a question as a statement. When I nodded he said, "Is it...okay? To do that, I mean?"

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "I swallow my own venom, and it doesn't bother me. But I suppose we'll find out." I smiled reassuringly, stroking his face, and kissed him again.

As we kissed, I allowed my mind to deliberately wander to an image of the two of us engaged in intercourse. Edward stiffened slightly beside me, but did not react otherwise. I wondered what he had seen in others' minds in the short time we were in Chicago, whether anyone else had been thinking of this.

At this, Edward shook his head slightly, answering my musings; but at the same time, he shifted, rolling slightly so he could pull me on top of him. I was now lying fully on top of him; our erect lengths were both captured between us. Edward slid his legs upward, opening his knees and hips, telling me that he, too, desired what he had seen in my mind. The look on his face was pure intensity and fire when I lifted myself slightly to align our bodies for what we were about to do.

I paused for a moment, giving thought to what, if any, I should use to prepare Edward for me. I knew enough about vampire intercourse to know that a sexually-aroused female vampire produced a vaginal secretion; in that way, their physiology was similar to humans – the difference, of course, being that in a vampire, the secretion would be comprised of venom. Since my own body produced venom, I decided to use some of the venom that was continually pooling in my mouth, to act as a lubricant.

It worked exactly as I hoped it would. Edward squirmed beneath me when my mouth and tongue painted his most intimate places with my venom; and moaned when I slipped one finger, then two inside him, gently sliding my fingers in and out. He was so soft – it was like stroking velvet, and I watched the expressions of surprise and delight that passed over his face, knowing that if he paid attention to my thoughts, he could watch himself as we both experienced lovemaking for the first time.

Soon, I positioned myself so I could enter him; but before I did, I murmured, "You must tell me truthfully, beautiful one, if I am hurting you."

He nodded silently, and I began to push into him, the well-coating venom still easing my entry. He closed his eyes, his lips parting in what looked like a moan; but he made no sound. I continued to forge ahead until I could go no farther, my skin pressed against his. Finally, from his open mouth, came a loud wail – not a piteous one, but rather one of utter pleasure. I'd never heard him so uninhibited, so primal. That sound, ripping from him – from my reserved, reticent Edward – nearly brought me to orgasm before I'd even begun to pull back.

I took a moment, exercising every bit of control I had to stay still, in hopes that the fire would still enough that I could pull out without immediately exploding. Beneath me, Edward clenched the muscles in his bottom several times, and I was lost. There was nothing I could do to stop the onslaught of ecstasy that took hold of me, setting every nerve ablaze. Each of my senses reacted – the scent of Edward, the sight of him as he watched me come, the sound of our voices mixing in mutual pleasure, his venom that I could still taste on my lips. And of course, the feel – his tight hole, slick with my venom, welcoming and enveloping my pulsing cock.

When my orgasm subsided, I hadn't moved inside Edward – I still held my position deep inside him where I'd stopped after first entering him. Now I began to pull backwards and lower myself into him again, every movement causing us both to sigh and hold tighter to each other.

_My Edward,_ I thought. _My beautiful Edward, I love you so much. _

"I love you too, Carlisle," he whispered hoarsely, his voice fraught with desire and with the effort he was expending. "I love showing you...it feels so good...I didn't know it would feel like this...it's amazing..." If there was more he wanted to add to that thought, it was lost in the roar that exploded from him when he was carried to the top of another all-consuming peak. His muscles contracted rhythmically as he came, and the sensation had me exploding right along with him. It was ecstasy, even better because we were sharing it, climaxing together. It put us on another plane.

At last, we both returned to the present, holding each other tight, kissing repeatedly and whispering soft expressions of love to each other. I slid off Edward, placing myself between him and the back of the couch. I lay on my side and held him close to me, his back pressing into my chest. I nuzzled his neck and his hair as his fingers traced gently over my arms that held him tight. We watched the ever-changing flames in the fireplace before us, casting light and shadows into a constant dance across the walls and floor. For a long time we didn't speak, our souls communing silently; eventually Edward broke the silence.

"Thank you, Carlisle," he murmured. "Thank you for making love to me. I've never been so happy...second only to when you told me you loved me."

"I do love you," I replied. "Until you came into my life, I had spent hundreds of years feeling profoundly lonely. You showed me what it meant to feel love, and I am so grateful for you. You have made my life complete, Edward. I never wish to be parted from you."

He turned in my arms so that he faced me, and kissed me deeply. "Never," he agreed fervently.

**-o-**

**I hope you enjoyed this glimpse, my take on Edward and Carlisle in their first year. I'm starting to realize how good SMeyer had it when she decided on the fade-to-black in Breaking Dawn. Writing vampsex is hard!! I also had to ditch PFac as Carlisle – I just could not make myself picture it. A pic of *my* Carlisle is posted on my blog, starfish422(dot)blogspot(dot)com. **

**I have a couple of one-shots coming up, as the readers who won my Support Stacie auction have generously said that I can share the stories I write for them, with my other readers. Keep your eye out for them! **


	3. Edward, 1933 to 1935

**Heyyyy. :) We haven't seen ****each other in a while. *sheepish wave* I had no idea an update was around the corner for this story, but it just sort of happened. Literally, yesterday morning, I woke up and the entire chapter was in my head. I hadn't even really been thinking about it, so I'm not sure how or why it happened; nevertheless, here it is. :) Hope you enjoy! **

**-o-**

**Edward, 19****33 – 1935**

_Edward_

"No," said Carlisle. "Absolutely not."

Even without the finality of his words, the grave expression on his face and the absolute set of his mind gave no hope of ambiguity. There was simply no way I would convince him to consider my position.

Yet I continued to lobby him. "Carlisle," I said in my calmest voice, "I don't believe you've examined this from all angles. You're committed to the sanctity of human life; and yet there are humans out there who prey upon other humans. You have me to read their thoughts, to know unquestionably who means to hurt or destroy innocent lives. If we were to feed only upon those people, the ones who intend to harm, we would be doing a _service_ to humanity. It would be mutually beneficial."

"That's a thin rationalization, Edward," he said, his face a mix of disgust and – most painful to me – disappointment. "You talk of placing yourself in the role of judge – no, in the role of censor, because a judge only rules once a crime has been committed. It is not up to us to mete out punishment."

Mentally, I isolated that part of me that felt guilty for disappointing him, banishing it to the back of my brain before refocusing on my argument. "Carlisle, I have this gift--"

"Edward, no!" He finally lost his temper. "You will not convince me that it's for the greater good. I refuse to allow you to use your gift to carry out a sick, self-serving culling of humanity."

I bristled, but kept my outward reaction limited to a narrowing of my eyes. "You _refuse to allow me_?" He didn't answer, only returning my gaze unflinchingly. "I believed you and I had been partners these thirteen and a half years, Carlisle; equals, despite your length of years. Is that not what you told me?"

"Your memory is perfect, as is mine," he replied evenly.

"And yet you infer that your word is final; that if you make a decision, _I_ must abide by it – much like a father would with an errant child."

"Forgive me, beautiful one," he said, "but you are _acting_ like a child."

"Indeed?" I replied, just barely controlling the anger that was flaring up hot inside me. "Well, you are _not_ my father, Carlisle. You may not make a unilateral decision in this partnership."

"Fine," he agreed, his demeanor suddenly suggesting weariness, despite our inability to experience fatigue. "I can't make a decision for _you_, Edward, but I will make a decision for myself. I will not feed on human blood, and I cannot live a vampire who does." He looked down at his hands where they rested on the dining room table; this was where we sat when we needed to have a discussion about something that affected our life together. "I lived with the Volturi for several decades, as you well know, and I witnessed what consumption of human blood does to a coven. Outside the bonds of mates, there is distrust, lack of true affection. Affection that does exist is easily swayed, when one vampire wishes to manipulate another for their own ends."

I struggled to remain focused on my argument, despite his implication that this choice would be the end of our relationship. "But, the bonds of mates remain intact, yes?"

"Yes..." Hesitantly he allowed this.

I continued, "What if one mate consumes human blood and the other abstains?" He looked at me, horrified at what I was implying. Hastily I added, "In theory."

He looked at me for long moments, his face becoming sadder as he did. I saw his thoughts as he considered the implications of my suggestion. He remembered me first as the teenager with green eyes and wire spectacles, feverish and unconscious in a hospital in Chicago. He saw my bright red eyes the moment I first opened them after my change, and I felt his internal flinch at realizing that, if I proceeded with what I was suggesting, my eyes would become red again. They would, however, no longer be the brilliant scarlet of a newborn, the eyes that gradually changed to a dull, muddy red, to orange-brown, to a rich amber; my eyes would stay the feral burgundy of a mature vampire who takes his strength at the cost of human life.

Finally, with resignation in his voice, he answered. "I know of no vampire mates who have been in that situation. However, I know what I can live with. I can't have a partner who does not live as I do, Edward."

There it was. The implied was now implicit. He refused to deviate from his 'perfect record', as he had once referred to it; and I saw no reason to deny ourselves what our bodies were made to consume, when I'd found what was, to me, a perfectly acceptable loophole in his reasoning. We were at an impasse.

"Carlisle, you and I...we are _mated._ That's not for life – that's for eternity." My voice took on a pleading tone. "I love you."

"I love you too." His face was pained. "I wish you wouldn't force the issue."

"I'm forcing it because you absolutely refuse to consider it! You would sacrifice our relationship over me choosing a different food source..."

"That is an oversimplification of the issue," he replied sadly. "I would never quarrel with you over a different food source, if it did not mean the sacrifice of humanity."

Those were the last words we spoke on the issue, because I knew Carlisle would not change his mind. However, I was determined to illustrate to him that he could not lay down the law for me. Three days later, when he was at an overnight shift at the hospital in Rochester, I went into town. I lurked in a dark alley in a seedy area of town, listening to the thoughts of those around me. When I heard the particularly vile thoughts of a seemingly-privileged young man, I crept closer to the mouth of the alley. Around the corner on the street was a bar; the man sat inside, drinking with his friends. He told them about the woman he was to marry in a few weeks' time, describing her in terms I found repugnant. I saw her in his thoughts; she was beautiful, but he viewed her as a vapid social climber, someone who was only interested in his money. He had neither love nor respect for her. His thoughts toward her became more violent as he continued to drink, and when the group of men stumbled out of the bar with the intention of intercepting the young woman's walk home, I prepared to take action.

I was considering how best to follow the men – by rooftops? Simply hide in bushes and dart from one to the next as needed? – when the trouble of deciding was taken from me. The man himself stumbled into the alley, the foremost thought in his mind one of relieving the pressure in his bladder. I blended seamlessly into the dark shadows a few feet away, remaining completely still as he opened his pants and began to relieve himself against the side of the building. _Classy_, I thought to myself with a grimace, but forced myself to concentrate on why I was here. I waited until he had emptied his bladder and turned back toward the street before leaping silently behind him. In an instant I snapped his neck; a millisecond later my teeth slid easily into his jugular. My body was flooded with physical pleasure as the elixir of his blood touched the back of my throat. I drained him quickly, and then, gathering his body to dispose of it, leapt up to the roof of the building, four floors up. A few seconds after I landed on the roof, one his friends hollered down the alley from the street, making a crude insinuation that he was taking advantage of his open pants to masturbate. I fled before they could begin to wonder why the man didn't reply.

I returned to the house I shared with Carlisle, several miles outside the corporation limits of Rochester. I looked in the mirror at myself and saw that, already, pinpoints of red were starting to bloom in the irises of my eyes. By the time Carlisle was due to return from his shift, my irises were 37.3% red and 62.7% amber. My body felt the strongest it had since I'd aged out of the newborn stage, and for the first time since my change, the perpetual thirst at the back of my throat was sated.

When Carlisle came through the door of our little house and saw me sitting in the living room, awaiting his return, he knew immediately. Even in the pale light of the weak morning sun, with his perfect eyes he saw the slight flush of my cheeks, the significant reduction of the shadows under my eyes; and of course, my eyes themselves. He looked away; in his thoughts I felt his horror at the life that had been lost tonight. I also heard his despair in anticipation of the conversation we must have, now that I had forced his hand.

"You've made your decision, then," he said sadly.

"Would you like to hear about the woman I protected tonight, Carlisle?" I offered, hoping he would at least give me an ear.

He did not. Shaking his head, he said in a dull, resigned voice, "I told you what I can live with, Edward, and I will act accordingly."

"You know I love you," I told him, my heart feeling like it would break. "It is a tragedy that our relationship must end because of this. It doesn't have to be the end..."

"If you plan to continue in this lifestyle, it _is_ the end for us," he corrected, his thoughts adding, _Even if it does pull my heart in two._

In a flash I was out of my chair and kneeling in front of him, wrapping my arms around him, pressing my cheek against his thigh. "Carlisle," I begged. "Please reconsider...I will never ask you to partake...please, allow me this. Do not ask me to leave."

He loosened my arms from around his legs and pulled me to stand, placing my arms around his neck instead. "Edward...my beautiful one," he said, his voice breaking. "I am quite prepared to beg you to stay; to beg you not to continue in this lifestyle. A slip like tonight can happen to anyone...you will start afresh..." His words were cut off as he kissed me, hard and repeatedly, on the mouth.

For several moments I responded to his kisses; but finally I gently eased him away from me. I looked into his eyes, sadly shaking my head. "It wasn't a slip," I whispered.

He understood the full meaning of my words. I planned to repeat the events of the last night, and the impasse was in place.

I backed slowly away from him, watching him with my own eyes and watching myself through his. Were it possible for a vampire to shed tears, we would both have been soaked; instead we shook with dry sobs. Our hands stretched toward each other long after I had stepped beyond his reach. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, I turned and fled – fled from my grieving partner, fled his thoughts and his broken heart...and from the life we had shared for thirteen years.

-o-

General wisdom is that when nursing a broken heart, time heals wounds; that the parties suffer most immediately after the demise of a relationship, and that as time passes, the pain will dull and fade until one is able to move on.

General wisdom is seldom applicable to the lives of immortals.

I left Carlisle in the month of April, 1933. The first year after I left Carlisle was actually easiest for me. I travelled first to New York City, opining that a large pond would contain the most scum, and afford me anonymity. During the day I would station myself on top of a building where I couldn't be seen. Then I'd listen - listen to conversations, listen to thoughts. I listened to the thoughts of adults, as well as those of children. I identified where a human predator lived, and then at night, while most of the city slept, I would eliminate the problem. Most often, I would snap the human's neck first; escape with the body to the roof of the building where I would drink; and then, having previously found a suitable burial site, dispose of it.

My work didn't completely occupy my thoughts, not by a long shot. Carlisle's memory was a constant; when I was hunting, it was easier to push it back somewhat. After my thirst was sated, though, he was impossible to ignore. I never pictured him speaking to me; only saw the soft waves of blonde hair and those beautiful amber eyes, holding so much sadness and disappointment in my life now. I still loved him tremendously – still thought of him as my mate. I didn't believe there would ever be anyone else for me but Carlisle, nor did I want anyone but him.

Despite that, the first year was the easiest, by a long shot. I was enjoying the physical strength human blood gave me. I had autonomy for the first time in my existence – I'd been too young to have any as a human, and had been essentially mated from the moment my transformation began. I would be lying to say that I didn't revel in my abandon to some small extent.

Still, one factor I'd failed to consider was that, once I began to drink from humans, it would become much more difficult to move among them as I did when I suppressed that side of my nature. For one thing, my now-burgundy eyes would immediately signal to them that I was unlike anyone else. More than that, though, being in the presence of a human now was exquisitely painful for me – every flutter of pulse within their neck, every whoosh of blood that was pumped through their hearts, was a torture. Since I didn't _need_ to be among them for any reason other than to hunt, most of the time I chose to remain hidden.

Nevertheless, I had come to enjoy having access to certain amenities in my life – literature and music, to name a few. Hero and Leander, the story Carlisle read to me the night we first made love, had become a favorite, along with others. It didn't matter to me that my perfect recall meant I didn't need to hold the books in my hand; it didn't matter that I didn't have an apartment or house in which to keep them. I wanted to have the books. One rainy September day, five months after I'd left, I decided to venture down from my daytime hiding place, on the roof of an apartment building in Hell's Kitchen, and find a book store to indulge my desire for these literary works.

I had some money on me – taken from the wallet of the wife-beating son of a bitch I'd eliminated the night before – and a pair of sun cheaters I'd pocketed in a different apartment a few weeks ago, and so I headed several blocks east to Midtown, to a bookstore I'd seen in the thoughts of some of the residents. Walking on the street wasn't bad. I ignored the curious looks from people I passed, though their thoughts were harder to ignore. _Is he a film star? _was the thought of a young woman I passed. A grouchy older man thought to himself, _Where does he think he is, on the beach?_ Though the scent of the humans was intensified by the rain, the fresh air helped.

When I stepped into the store, though, I was immediately buffeted by the concentrated scents of many humans – not just the ones in the store at that moment, but the ones who'd been there at any time in the last several days. The clerk looked up to greet me, but the smile died on his lips when he saw me. Though his thoughts couldn't identify for him what was wrong, he had an overwhelming feeling of danger. _As well you should,_ I thought to myself.

Outwardly, I said a pleasant hello, then turned immediately away from him, moving around the store. I held my breath while I was in the store; it was made easier by the fact that no one spoke to me. I found four books I wanted and took them to the register. The clerk thought I was terribly rude for not taking off my sun cheaters indoors, but his unease in my presence made him keep his thoughts to himself. I used the last of my stored air to thank him and wish him a pleasant day, and then turned to leave.

I opened the door, stepping back to hold it for a young women who entered. She thanked me, smiling pleasantly and making a comment about being glad to get out of the rain. She was in her early twenties, perhaps; and had long brown hair. As she passed me, she tossed her damp hair over her shoulder. It was terribly unfortunate that, half a second before, begun to inhale. The woman's sweet scent flooded me, permeating my nostrils and scorching the back of my throat. I choked, my hand flying to my throat. The noise was enough to make both the clerk and the young woman turn to look at me, and the woman's scent was forced toward me again.

"Are you all ri-" the woman began to say. It was all I heard as I summoned every atom of self-control I possessed, to remove myself from that bookstore. I'd never experienced such powerful bloodlust, not even as a blood-obsessed newborn. It was nothing short of miraculous that the young woman, and anyone who could conceivably have been considered a witness, survived that day.

The incident made me realize that I could no longer trust myself to be among humans during the daytime. It was one thing to sneak into a house or apartment at night, knowing exactly where my object slept and allowing myself only to focus on that target; it was quite another to assault my senses with the delicious, nearly-irresistible scents of innocent humans. I had not strayed from my original objective – to feed on human blood only from those who would harm others. I was, I believed, still committed to protecting _innocent _humans. Nevertheless, it was with regret that I admitted to myself that I had given up another shred of my humanity that day.

-o-

The passing of the next two years saw me become less and less like a human, and more like a creeping, sneaking animal, thinking only of two things – blood, and Carlisle. I stopped reading the books I loved. When I wasn't hunting, I lay motionless on the rooftop I'd come to think of as mine, and I thought about my mate. Three times during those months, I ran back to Rochester – not with the intention of returning to Carlisle, but to reassure myself that he was still there. We had moved there only six months before I left; we usually had four or five years before people started to question that Carlisle didn't age, so I didn't think it had yet become a necessity for him to move on. I would go into the city and position myself where I could see him coming and going from the hospital.

Unfortunately, in order to see him among the buildings of the city, I also had to be close enough to hear his mind. Normally as he came and went from the hospital he was thinking of his work or a patient he'd spoken to that day; no matter what his musings, though, there was always a sadness coloring them. The third time I went back, his thoughts were utterly bereft; I could see in his mind a patient who reminded him of me. His torture was acute; his mind repeated my name over and over. Like a coward, I ran, fleeing Rochester and returning to New York, to the relative comfort of anonymous thoughts. I decided then that I could no longer return to watch Carlisle from a distance; seeing him was like a splash of acid on an already-open wound.

My life was reduced to a never-ending cycle of waiting and hunting; I moved as a wraith in the night and then returned to my cocoon to await my next hunt. The life I'd once had – full of love, music, literature, and my Carlisle – existed only in my memory now. The long hours I spent motionless, I retreated into my memory – there, I sat at my piano, letting the music flow through my fingertips as they caressed the keys. Carlisle stood behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders or stroking my hair. We would sit in front of the fireplace and read; or we would make love – on the floor, on the couch, in our bed, in the woods, on the roof...Sometimes my memories became too real and I forced myself back to the present. _This is the life you have now,_ I silently would remind myself.

For I never spoke out loud anymore. I did not speak to my victims – they were usually asleep anyway – and who else was there? It had been many months since I'd used my voice – the last time being the day in the bookstore.

-o-

The last time I drank from a human was in October, 1935. It had been 179 days since the last time I'd seen Carlisle. 353 days since I'd picked up one of my books. 726 days since I'd spoken aloud. 914 days since I'd walked away from my love and my life. The next day, everything changed.

Even without perfect recall, I would not forget the events of that night for anything. I had identified a man in Chelsea, just south of Hell's Kitchen, who would be my next victim. He had a wife and two daughters; his daughters were nine and six. I had picked up the thoughts of Nancy, the older girl, that afternoon as she passed my building on her way home from school. She felt ashamed and horrified, remembering the previous night when her father had touched her in a way that terrified her. I risked daylight to sneak from one rooftop to the next, so I could stay within range of her thoughts. I refused to lose her; refused to allow that pig to touch her again. Several blocks away, she turned into an apartment building. I reached the roof of that building, and there I stayed, waiting for night to come so I could remove the offender from the gene pool.

Shortly after midnight, when everyone in the apartment was asleep, I crept down the fire escape, entering their apartment through the living room window. I already knew the layout of their apartment from having watched the thoughts of the family all evening – the thoughts of the man repulsed me, and I spent as little time in his mind as possible – so I silently moved towards the bedroom in the back where the man and his wife slept. The light in the bathroom had been left on, and I had a brief, hazy memory of my own childhood, when I begged my parents to leave the gaslight on low, as it terrified me to be in complete darkness.

In a matter of seconds, I'd snapped his neck and scooped up his body from the bed; but as I stepped into the hall, I came face-to-face with none other than little Nancy herself. For several seconds time stood still as we faced each other: me, carrying the lifeless body of her father; her, stunned into silence as she tried to comprehend what she saw before her. In those seconds, I saw myself through her eyes – wild, dirty, my eyes deep burgundy and terrifying even in the dim light that shone down the hall from the bathroom – and I was repulsed at my own appearance. Then Nancy shrieked, a scream of pure terror. I dropped her father's body there in the hall – my thirst having evaporated in an instant – and fled. With vampire speed, I was up the fire escape and bounding across rooftops, covering half a block in a single leap, not pausing until I was past Yonkers. Even then, I only slowed, but did not stop heading north.

When I reached the Catskill Mountains, I felt safe to stop and hide myself deep in the forest there. I buried myself under a pile of brightly-colored fallen leaves, allowing the damp, slightly musty smell to fill my nostrils; it wasn't a particularly pleasant scent, but it helped me think about something other than the smell of human blood. As I lay, I allowed the memory of what Nancy saw, to play before my eyes. _Monster!_ was the word that came to her terrified mind; it did not matter that I was there to do away with the thing that was hurting her. The only context she had for me was _monster_. When I thought of my appearance through her eyes, could I argue? I had become feral and uncivilized – worse, in fact. At least wild animals bathed; they communicated; and they mated, even the ones who didn't live in groups. I had ceased to do any of those things. My humanity was all but lost.

In short, I _was_ a monster – the fact that I was higher on the food chain didn't change that.

I groaned before saying aloud, "What am I doing?" Hearing my voice for the first time in two years, I was shocked – it had become a deep rasp. My hand flew to my throat, throwing up a flurry of leaves as it moved. I tried again, this time croaking out Carlisle's name. Was the change because of a diet of human blood, or because of disuse? I remembered Carlisle speaking of ancient vampires he knew – Romanian by birth, they had been the ruling family for centuries before being overthrown by the Volturi. During their ruling years they had remained still for decades; unused, their bodies began to desiccate. Had I somehow ruined my voice?

I didn't know; and though I was concerned, it was nothing compared to the overwhelming drive I had to return to Carlisle. Shaking the leaves off me, I immediately began to run, heading northwest. It was about 220 miles from where I was, near a town called Liberty, to Rochester. I hadn't been back to Rochester since April; as I ran, I could not ignore the horrible possibility that he had moved on, that I wouldn't be able to find him. Once, as I ran between two of the Finger Lakes, I stopped dead in my tracks, halted by a horrible thought.

_What if Carlisle didn't want me?_

I had left, turning my back on our life, our love – my _husband_ – for the supposed thrill of human blood. Only now, when I realized my attempt was a spectacular disaster, was I returning to him, hoping for his forgiveness. Why would Carlisle forgive me, when he deserved someone worth so much more? When I didn't deserve him?

I considered it for thirty harrowing seconds, before pushing it to the back of my mind. First things first – I needed to get to Rochester before daylight, because I knew I couldn't bear to have to wait out daylight hours before reaching our old house, when I'd already come so close.

The sun was just coming over the horizon when I walked up the creaky front porch steps of our little house. Carefully I peeked in the front window; if Carlisle no longer lived there, I certainly didn't wish to give a fright to the new occupants. I was unspeakably relieved to see all the things I recognized as _ours_ – the furniture, the bookcases, my piano. One hurdle crossed, then; the next would be Carlisle.

I sat on the porch steps, and quietly said Carlisle's name aloud, my voice grating as it had in the woods; but I knew he likely was not home. He might have ignored my steps through the rustling leaves that covered the floor of the woods surrounding our home; but when he heard footsteps on the porch he would have come to look out.

An hour and fifteen minutes passed as I sat waiting; and during every second of those moments I gave thanks for silence. Naturally, to my vampire ears, the woods were anything but silent – the scampering of small creatures, mild breezes, even falling leaves were part of nature's symphony; but I could not hear a single human thought. I'd forgotten how restful it was to have quiet inside my head.

Shortly after 8:30, though, I heard in my head, the most melodious, most beautiful mental voice I'd ever heard. _The scent! His scent! Edward's...Edward!! Are you here? Can you hear me? Please, God..._ In his thoughts I saw the forest begin to streak past him, as he sprinted towards home. He would have caught the scent of my trail around the time he left the highway to turn onto the country road on which our house was located. At vampire speed, he was now, at most, thirty seconds away. I stood to meet him, acutely aware of how dirty I was, how savage and wild I would look to him.

He, on the other hand, looked as beautiful, as refined...as _Carlisle_ as ever, when he emerged from the trees and skidded to a halt some twenty feet from me. For several seconds, we simply looked at each other. I refused to view his thoughts, unwilling to feel his horror as he realized the monster I'd become. Instead, I drank in the sight of him; his blonde hair, his eyes, several shades darker than they'd been last time I saw him – he must be due to hunt soon – and his clothes, looking as smooth and pressed as if he'd just put them on, instead of working all night and then running home in them.

He spoke first. "Edward," he said, his voice reflecting quiet wonder. "Can this be real?"

I opened my mouth to speak, wincing slightly before the sound emerged. "Yes, Carlisle," I returned hoarsely. "It's me."

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he whispered. "It's been so long..."

"Too long," I admitted. "It took me too long to learn something I should already have known."

"And what did you learn?" he asked, haltingly.

"That you were right," I replied openly. "About everything. I wasn't doing humanity a favor by eliminating the bad ones. It didn't matter how many monsters I removed, there were thousands more waiting. I became a monster right along with them, and the worst part is..." Here I slumped down onto the step, resting my elbows on my knees and placing my head in my hands. "The worst part is that I gave up everything in exchange for becoming nothing. Worse than nothing. I gave up _you_, Carlisle – you, who was everything good and pure and perfect..." I broke down into choking sobs, just able to force out the words, "I'm so sorry," before I could no longer go on.

Immediately he was kneeling in front of me, gently prying my hands away from my face. "Don't," I sobbed. "Don't look at me...my eyes..."

"Edward," he murmured. "My beautiful one..."

"No, Carlisle," I choked. "I'm not your beautiful one anymore. I have red eyes, and I'm dirty...and my voice..."

"No," he countered, and sat beside me on the step, pulling me into his embrace. "Your soul, Edward; your soul is what has always been most beautiful to me."

I laughed bitterly. "My soul! My soul is black..."

"I don't believe that." He shook his head firmly. "You're still a very young vampire, Edward – only seventeen years since your change. Teenagers can be rebellious, I'm told; especially the intelligent ones. They have to find their way for themselves, even if their way leads them back to where they started." He placed his hand under my chin, raising my face to look into his, and he looked unflinchingly into my deep red eyes. "Have you decided to recommit to this lifestyle..._our_ lifestyle?"

"Yes," I said unequivocally. I knew I would never again take a human life, regardless of whether Carlisle took me back.

"Well, then," he said, and without another word, he stood, pulling me up with him. He took my hand and, after unlocking the door, drew me into our house. He ran a hot bath in the tub, undressed me – throwing my clothes into the garbage, rather than into the laundry. He encouraged me to get into the water, and then lovingly, carefully, he bathed me. He washed my hair three times to get the months of city grit out of it; he gently soaped a washcloth and cleansed the filth from my skin. Simply being touched felt glorious; I'd barely felt any touch, let alone an affectionate one, since the day I'd left. The physical bath was a restorative to my soul; it wasn't quite the pristine white I'd once imagined it to be, but perhaps it was no longer tar black, either.

As he washed me, I simply sat with my eyes closed and listened to his melodious voice. He spoke continuously, perhaps simply for the enjoyment of speaking to his mate again. He talked about the young woman I'd saved, that first night I went hunting in Rochester. He might never have known who she was, if not for her connection with the man I'd killed. He was the son of an influential banker in Rochester; and the newspapers went nuts for weeks after his disappearance. I'd heard the name in people's thoughts those first weeks in New York City – Rochester not being so far from New York, this was big news – and had surmised this much for myself. "The young woman – Rosalie Hale – was devastated after he disappeared," Carlisle continued. "But then the auditors at the bank began to turn up some irregularities in young Mr. King's dealings there – it seems he was dipping into private savings accounts to fund weekends of debauchery for him and his friends." With aspersions cast on Royce's character, and with no ransom note having been sent to his family, it began to look as though he had simply fled.

"What of the girl – Rosalie?" I asked quietly.

He explained that she had been sent to stay with family in Tennessee after the press coverage became too much for her to deal with. While there, she met and promptly fell in love with a young man, whom of course her family disapproved of – he wasn't rich, he wasn't 'refined'. "Not that those criteria turned up such a great selection for her the first time around," Carlisle grumbled. Rosalie stuck to her guns, marrying him despite her parents' disapproval. "So Rosalie Hale is now Rosalie McCarty," he said with a gentle smile, "She and her husband, Emmett, have been married for a year and a half, and they live here in Rochester, not far from the hospital. He's a great big bear of a man; but he has a keen sense of humor, and a great raucous laugh. He worships Rosalie, that's for sure. And very soon – within a few weeks, in fact – Mrs. McCarty will be answering to a new name: Mother."

By the time he was done his tale, my bath water had cooled. He beckoned me to step out of the tub, where he dried me with a fluffy towel, and then led me to our room. "And so you see, Edward, not everything you've done is quite as unforgivable as you might think. I suspect if Rosalie McCarty knew what you did for her that night, she might consider herself a very fortunate woman now."

I looked down to where he still held my hands in his; I lifted one of them to my mouth and kissed his palm. "Carlisle," I whispered. "You know the forgiveness of a thousand Rosalies means nothing to me if I don't have yours. I told you, the night we first made love, that I never wished to be parted from you; and yet I separated us with my own hand. I've sinned against you, against our love, and I will regret it forever. Can you ever forgive me?"

He took my face in his hands. "My beautiful one," he murmured, "I already have."

A soft whimper of gratitude left my lips before his mouth pressed against them. Wrapped snugly in an angel's wings, the love that could never die sanctified me that day; I knew I would never stray from it again, for the rest of my existence.

-o-

I just could not resist the temptation to give Rosalie a much happier life than the one she had in canon.

A story note – "sun cheaters" are what we call sunglasses. In the early 20th century, a common American vernacular for glasses was "cheaters"; sunglasses therefore became "sun cheaters". Foster Grant introduced the first inexpensive, mass-produced sunglasses to the US in 1929.


End file.
